


The House Made of Straw

by grizzly_bear_bane



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Couch Sex, Derek's Loft, Full Moon, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Peter Hale Looks Damn Good in a V-Neck, Peter Hale Thirst XD, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Scenting, Sex with Clothes On, Stiles Definitely Agrees
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-08
Updated: 2013-08-08
Packaged: 2017-12-22 16:35:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/915499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grizzly_bear_bane/pseuds/grizzly_bear_bane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles stops by the loft to see Derek and finds Peter there instead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The House Made of Straw

**Author's Note:**

> I just need to work out some Peter Hale thirst with this one. XD
> 
> Should be finished in a few days!
> 
> Comments, critiques, suggestions always welcomed.

++++

Stiles crossed his arms and chewed on his lip, staring out through the wall of windows. He sighed. “How long did he say before he’d be back? As much I enjoy awkward, uncomfortable silences with you, I’m kind of on the clock here.”

“Ten minutes, tops.” Peter lounged on the soft couch, enjoying the view of Stiles’ ass in the tighter jeans he’d worn today. “Relax, Stiles, you’ve only been here seven minutes,” he lied. “Just sit that cute little ass down, maybe have a glass of water, or coffee or…something. Three minutes’ll pass before you know it.”

Peter’s grin grew wider. He knew that hesitant look over Stiles’ shoulder, the miniscule quirk in his brow. He chuckled. “Yes, Stiles, before you ask, you know very well how I feel about your ass. It is in fact, very cute.”

Stiles glanced at him again, a ‘Really?’ on the tip of his tongue, but he clamped down on his jaw instead. He turned his attention back to the windows, sighing again.

Peter observed him for a moment more. To anyone else, Stiles’ continued silence would have been reason enough to send him to the hospital. Something had to be wrong if his mouth wasn’t running with a dozen different conversations at once, all over top of each other to whoever would listen, but… The last time Stiles had stood at that window and Peter had lounged on this couch, waiting for Scott and Derek to breach the bank volt, Stiles had talked. He’d rambled and rambled, and Peter only needed to say one word—or maybe it wasn’t the word. More the way he’d looked at Stiles, and the poor boy had no idea the direction his outward train of thought had traveled to.

Apparently, Stiles found Peter to be quite attractive. Apparently, Stiles was very fond of Peter’s new haircut, his new physique, his wardrobe.

Apparently, Stiles hadn’t even known that he felt this way, nor did he realize that he’d said all of this aloud.

Clearly, it was best that Stiles not risk that again.

Granted, words hardly mattered. Stiles’ posture, his heartbeat, were more than enough for Peter.

Hearing Stiles sigh again for the ten millionth time, Peter rolled his eyes and got up from the plush couch, stretching like the lazy wolf he was.

The small jerk in Stiles’ shoulders and hitched breath made Peter grin again. “Did I scare you?” he whispered, innocent and apologetic, a breath behind Stiles. His hands twitched to touch his narrow hips, to turn him around and—

Stiles spun on his heel. “ _No_. Of course not.” He responded immediately, though even he knew lying was useless, and stupid, considering. He huffed. Not bothering to elaborate, he turned his back again. Something about Peter these days…it did things to his head he couldn’t understand.

Which wasn’t his only problem now that he could feel Peter’s rough hands sliding under his hoodie and t-shirt to feel his hips.

He swallowed thickly. “P-Peter? Um…”

“Yes, Stiles?” He used his firm grip to draw Stiles a step back. “You smell lovely for a boy who drives a ratty Jeep and eats junk food all the time.”

“Yeah? Thanks, but still, like… Are you wolfing out right now?” Stiles shivered, encased in Peter’s arms, feeling the man’s breath hot on the back of his exposed neck right before the scratch of stubble and scrape of too sharp teeth. “Can we talk about this?”

He chuckled when Stiles swallowed again. His heart was practically beating out of his chest, and he hadn’t once moved out of Peter’s grasp.

He pressed his chest to Stiles’ back and flexed his arms, squeezing the boy’s waist tightly. “I think you’ve said enough already, don’t you think?”

Stiles couldn’t think of a rebuttal, his thoughts going to static when Peter kissed a trail around the side of his neck, nipping pinprick marks and scenting along the way up to the back of his ear.

“Peter?”

In response, he growled in the plush hood of Stiles’ jacket.

“Peter?” He was getting breathier by the second, near trembling when claws lightly scratched across his fuzzy navel. His head fell to the side, granting Peter more neck to tease.

Peter was gone, lost in the need to mingle his scent with Stiles and mark him. He blinked and had Stiles on his back across the table, devouring his mouth and pulling his belt open.

Stiles’ eyes snapped open when he heard his belt buckle hit the hardwood floor. Peter’s teeth were still razor shape but his claws weren’t out. He had his sleeves hiked up, showing off his strong forearms. His muscled chest nearly spilled out of his low collar.

He was hot, to say the least and it took Stiles a long time to register what was happening and who this was happening with and where it was happening. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Stop. Peter, stop. Hey!” He tried to push the werewolf off but stilled when he was met with icy blue eyes and a feral growl.

Peter blinked again, regaining some of his control. “Sorry,” he breathed, letting Stiles sit up a bit though he didn’t move out of the boy’s personal space. “You’ll have to excuse me. It’s been a while since…” He tracked Stiles’ throat when he swallowed down to his still heaving chest and rumpled shirt. Peter wanted to tear him apart. He dug his fingers into the table on either side of his hips. “But, it’s a full moon, and I’m so very, very weak, and you smell just…so receptive.”

“ _Receptive_? What does that even mean? I’m—”

Peter paused his slow, deep kisses, crystal blue locking with rich brown. “Are you still afraid of me, Stiles?”

Stiles’ cheeks turned pink when Peter smiled lewdly. “ _No_. Well, I mean… You are definitely a lot…bigger, since the last time I set you on fire.”

Peter chuckled. “I remember. And you, Stiles – at least in moments like this one, where you’re relatively quiet – are even more tempting since the last time I _almost_ bit you,” he whispered into his neck, loving the shiver that followed Stiles’ heart flutter.

Stiles moaned into Peter’s mouth. “But wait, we can’t—Peter, what about Derek? Shit, he’ll be back any minute.”

Peter pulled back, his eyes wide and innocent. “No, he won’t.”

“But you said—”

“Yes. I lied to keep you here. He might not be back until morning.”

“But—” His phone ringed. He turned to answer it, but Peter had his mouth again, silencing Stiles’ moan of protest. When he moved forward this time, Stiles let himself lay back across the table.


End file.
